Love Amour Poem by Mark Heathcote

Love is dynamite, 'right? '
It's hot, it's-passionate
It explodes into being
Like flowing volcanic larva
It's got sizzling, sultry breezes.
It has tropical, stormy nights.
Molten fiery moments
That can't be separated,
Do you know what I mean?
But keep it visually out of sight,
Keep it impractically altogether clean.
Love is a speedway race.
A basketball game
With no second or third bases
You're either in or you're out.

There is no let's hold back.
Take it easy, approach
As one or the other
Wants always-to-go full throttle
Without a pit stop or a safety car in use
And the one that doesn't
Is sure to be struggling with doubts,
And will be expressing a million
Counter conflicting accounts, how to proceed
And talking about past abuse
Love amour, love amour, love amour, I'm not ready at all.
Love is Grand Prix; it's got 51 laps
It's in the hands of the gods
Love is fraught with risk and danger.
Let it start with a simple kiss
And say goodbye to being
Just good friends or worse still
An admiring distant stranger.